


Don't save me, save yourself instead

by Flawedwinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asthmatic Dean Winchester, Athma is a bitch, Balthazar is a dick, Beta Wanted, Castiel (Supernatural) is Bad at Feelings, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Twins, Dean has no friends, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, F/F, F/M, Gabriel is a Novak, Gabriel is a Softie, Graphic Description, Hospital, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore Lives, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Medical Patient Dean Winchester, Mental Illnesses, Michael is a good brother, Not Beta Read, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Self-Harm, Sick Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, Worried Sam Winchester, Younger Dean Winchester/Older Sam Winchester, raphael is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flawedwinchesters/pseuds/Flawedwinchesters
Summary: Old habits die hard and Dean Winchester knows that all too well.Maybe a certain blue-eyed boy will help Dean with his quest to lay his demons to rest.They come a long way with help from siblings and friends, but nothing is ever as easy as it appears.Castiel will do whatever it takes to save the boy that he loves so much. Even if it means that they will go down together.





	1. Chapter een

Every so often the world becomes a bit too much, even for me, Dean Winchester, the guy that is the definition of too much.  
People tell me that I talk too much, too loud and that I take up too much attention.

It’s not that I try to be like that.

I desperately want to be a ‘normal’ introvert. I want to hate talking to people and I want to hate giving answers when the teachers ask questions.  
The problem is that I don’t hate those things. 

Meeting new people is obviously off limits, just like asking strangers things I need or talking about my feelings. I just wish that talking and answering questions would be on my list of things I despise too. 

Life generally is easy, well I know that it’s meant to be easy, I just don’t feel like it is.

My brother, Sam, looks up to me like I’m his best friend in the whole wide world. It makes me feel warm inside when I know that someone thinks of me in a positive way. Teachers probably do so too. I am the only student that enthusiastically participates in class. 

When people see me walking by they never would guess that I’m doing okay in school, that I get good grades and that I always complete assignments early. Sam is still the biggest nerd in my family; he easily aces all of his tests without having to do much studying. 

I, on the other hand, study a lot. 

My parents would probably still be together if my mum wouldn’t have died in a house fire when Sam and I were four. 

When I was 10 there was a ‘divorce wave’. The parents of 12 children from my class split up. I almost felt sorry for my teacher. He had to listen to crying mothers during the parent-teacher conferences. 

Sam is my twin, but he is like the polar opposite of me. Sam is tall and buff and has beautiful hair (when he actually takes care of it, and by taking care of it I mean cutting it off to a decent length). I am short and thin. He is older by 11 minutes, which is why he thinks that he can boss me around like no tomorrow. Sam got his growth spurt, and I got stuck with the length that I reached when I was 14. Doctors say it’s due to my asthma, I say it’s bullshit and unfair. I gave up being sad about it a long time ago though, it didn’t change anything and Sam always felt bad for me. 

My brother looks a lot like my father, whereas I look a lot like my mother. Even our personalities match if I believe what dad has told me about my mum. 

Even if Sam and I have our differences, we still have each other’s backs, no matter what. That brings me to the situation I’m currently in.  
17-year-old Sam is looming over some kid that tried to steal my backpack off of my shoulders during lunch. The kid looks like he’s ready to shit his pants. I suppose I would be laughing If it wasn’t because of me that a boy would be suffering from nightmares for the rest of his life. 

“Do you understand me?” Sam takes a step forward, making the kid cower back in fear. “Y-yes.” Sam shoots the kid one last murderous look and then helps me up. 

“You okay De?” I nod and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” I want to open my mouth to provide an answer, but just as I do that, one of the kids behind me murmurs something which makes Sam turn around angrily. Just one look is enough to send the rascals running in the opposite direction. 

“I didn’t.” Sam grabs my arm and hauls me downstairs towards the canteen. “I didn’t either, I was busy saving your ass, again.” He grabs his lunchbox, “you should seriously start defending yourself, you don’t even try.” 

I sigh and grab my own lunchbox. “I know, I just keep forgetting that when I actually need to defend myself, so it’s kind of not my fault. Want to switch bread?”  
Dad gave me salami with butter, which is the most disgusting thing to eat, like in the whole wide world. “What do you have?” 

“Salami and butter, what about you?” Sam laughs, “no way I’m switching, I got egg salad.” I groan.“Can I at least have a bite of yours then? Please?”I give him my best puppy eyes.  
My twin holds his bread in front of my mouth quietly and watches me take a big-ass bite. “I thought you said one bite?” 

“I took one.” I don’t know how it sounds, but my mouth is stuffed to the brim, so Sam probably doesn’t understand what I’m saying.  
“Ugh, you’re so gross.” 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

I take a bite of my salami sandwich and make choking noises. Sam snorts and hands me the last part of his own. “You are such a drama queen.” I bat my eyes and swallow chunk of salami stuck in my throat. “What time are you done with school?” I look at the timetable that I saved on my phone and then back to my brother, “two, you?” 

“Same let’s cycle home together unless you have something better to do?” I shake my head and take a sip of water. 

“Well, I’m going to join my friends again. I’ll see you at your locker. See you!” I wave and place my lunchbox in my bag.

Sam is quite popular here at school; he’s smart, has a good sense of humour and is built like a Greek god. 

I am very obviously the frail twin. I believe I’ve got almost every allergy in the book, and my asthma is a bitch that can’t be tamed. The only upside from the asthma part is that I get to miss school once in 6 weeks for a check-up. The downside is the inhaler that I always carry with me, no wait, I have four inhalers that I always carry with me. I have the tendency to lose them after I used them, so Sam and dad make sure that I have at least two inhalers with me at all times. 

I start walking to the classroom where I got history. My history teacher is the best honestly. He is young and knows what he is doing. We frequently talk after school. He also teaches Sam’s class, and it never seises to amaze him how much Sam and I differ from each other.

It’s rather sad that we’re not identical because it would’ve been fun to prank teachers and make each other’s test when one of us didn’t study. 

My history teacher, Mr. Smith, is always late, even when he is early. Don’t ask me how he does that, but I believe that he even was late to his own birth. 

I take a seat in the back of the classroom. A lot of people assume that only the cool and loud kids sit in the back, like in a bus, but it’s different here. My class is the more alternative class out of my year. We don’t really have very popular kids, just some quiet ones that befriended each other at the start of the school year. 

Mr. Smith walks into the classroom late, as I predicted. He immediately starts by telling us that we need to open our books and turn to page 44. 

“Hey, Dean” I ignore it and read the text in my textbook, “Dean!”  
I look up and see Tristan pointing to his phone. “What?!” I’m good at whisper-yelling. It’s a word I made up and I find it pretty damn funny.  
“Phone!” I grab my phone out of my backpack and shelter it behind my pencil case. Tristan sent me a lot of messages, and when I say a lot, I mean 98 messages. 

98 messages and all of them are memes. I open some of them and I need to try not to snort. Mr. Smith doesn’t care if you use your phone during class as long as you don’t distract others while doing so. 

I suddenly receive a message from Sam, saying that he needs to help a friend with a project. In other words: we are not cycling home together. 

I’m used to it. Sam has his own life and isn’t stuck with me. He frequently goes with friends after school, leaving me alone to deal with whatever I find when I come home, which is most often a drunken father. 

I text my brother a ‘k’ and turn my phone off, concentrating on my textbook once again. The 45 minutes are over too rapidly, I have French after history and I hate French.  
I don’t necessarily hate the language; I mean German is way worse than French, but my teacher is a hag. She used to be very sweet until her sister died and she got diagnosed with heart problems due to high amounts of stress.

I grab my backpack and make my way to the classroom where Ms. Carter is waiting for us.  
French is also the only class I have together with Sam. He always sits next to me. I don’t know if he thinks of it as his duty as a sibling or if he genuinely likes sitting next to me, but he never skipped a day, unless he or I wasn’t at school of course. 

Sam is there already and smiles widely at me. “Hey, I’m going to go out tonight, want to join?”  
I look at him like he’s grown 2 heads. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Winchesters, I know that it’s extremely nice to see your own DNA next to you, but please focus on class.”  
Both Sam and I turn red, and we nod, “yes Ms.Carter.”  
As soon as she turns the other way to write grammar rules on the whiteboard Sam starts talking again. “Want to go out with me tonight?”

“Sammy is this your own idea or is dad up to something?” 

Sam sighs, “both but we never go out together and it’s almost our birthday so it would be great to spend that together as minors.”

“Exactly, we’re minors. We can’t drink until we’re 18, so why don’t we go out after we turned 18?”  
I hear Ms. Carter sigh so I quickly grab a pen and start writing down notes in my notebook.  
“Because I want to talk to you about something okay?” 

That’s never good. 

“About what?”

“If you just would’ve said yes when I asked you to go out with me, you wouldn’t be curious now.”  
“Winchesters, last warning.”  
Sam and I bob our heads down to our table and start working on the assignment that the boy in front of us, Jones, put on our tables. 

“Fine. What time?”  
“I’ll be home around five, so we can go around six. We can get dinner while we are at it.”  
I nod, “fine, but you better be there around 5 otherwise I’ll find you and execute you.”  
“I’m bigger and stronger, I’d like to see you try.”

I snort, “I’m your twin. I know your weaknesses better than anyone.”  
“Okay, both of the boys in the back, out of my classroom.” When Sam and I make no movement, she adds an angry ‘pronto.’ 

“It’s sad that I need to do this, you’re both almost graduated. Is it really too much effort to pay attention those last weeks before the final exams?”  
“No ma’am, we’re sorry.” 

My brother and I walk out of the classroom and search for a peaceful spot in the hallway.  
“Talking about final exams, I need you to help me with a text for my Latin class.” Sam isn’t that good at Latin and I honestly don’t know why he chose it.

“Alright, I need help with mathematics. You help me. I help you.”  
Sam smiles, “we are such good siblings, Mara and Jack would be jealous.”

Mara and Jack are our old neighbours, they were capable of killing each other. We always use them as an example when dad complains about how much Sam and I argue.  
We dub it good-natured banter, and not arguing, because it never gets heated. 

The bell goes off, and we both are off to our separate classes. 

The rest of my classes are uneventful, and my mind keeps drifting off to why Sam would want to talk to me about. 

Dad is asleep when I get home, so I get some homework done. I work best in peace and quiet.  
Sam gets home at five, just like he promises. 

“Let’s go.”

The knot in my stomach gets bigger. 

What if he’s abandoning me?


	2. Chapter twee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update of the week because I'm really excited about this story. I will be busy with studying for my final exams this week because they start on the 14th of May (stress), so I probably won't update for a while.  
> Maybe some of you noticed already, but I'm not English. I actually live in the Netherlands so I will be using some of my experiences living here for this story. If you have any questions because you don't understand, feel free to leave a comment or a message :)
> 
> I also am in need of a beta for this story to look for possible grammatical or spelling mistakes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

It takes us a while to finally get to our destination. Sam wanted to try an alternative route (He called it ‘Route Touristique’ so who am I to deny?) and we got horribly lost. 

We also almost got hit by a truck because we were distracted. 

We go to this fancy ass restaurant that just opened up. We’re both very underdressed for it but a lot of people told us that we should really go there sometime.  
Sam and I were planning to go there for dad’s birthday, but he is abroad when he turns 48 so we can’t exactly take him out to dinner.

I don’t think that the old man would appreciate it anyway, he is happy with a bottle of Jack or Johnnie and that’s about it. 

“Good evening, welcome to Nadia’s, how can I help you this evening?”  
Sam takes a step forward and smiles brightly at the woman manning the entrance.  
“A table for two please.” 

The woman smiles and lets us through. “Michael will be your waiter this evening. Have an excellent meal.”  
Both my brother and I thank her and follow Michael towards a table in the back. He hands us two menus and sets a carafe of water with two glasses in front of us.  
“I will be back in a minute to take your order.”

I open the menu and look at the fancy food they serve. “Sammy, they have fucking lobster. I’ve never eaten lobster before. Oh, and they have scallops and clams too!”  
“You hate seafood, Dean. You okay man?”  
I snort, “there is a time for everything and now is the time for me to be classy and eat lobster.” 

“You’re paying, so be my guest.” Sam hides behind his menu when he sees that I want to throw my napkin at him.  
“Okay, I’ll be wise and go with the mushroom risotto.”

“Good choice, I’ll take that as well.”  
“Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean that we need to eat the same food you know Sam.”

My brother shoots me one of his many bitchfaces.

Michael sees that we both put our menus down on the table and takes our orders. When he returned to the kitchen to tell the chef our choices, I turn my full attention to Sam.  
“So what did you want to talk about Samsquatch?” 

Sam takes a sip of water and fiddles with the napkin on the corner of the table.

“Well, we’re both graduating in a few months, and we both didn’t apply for any universities so I was thinking maybe we can go back home?”  
I was not expecting that. I wasn’t expecting that at all.

“Back home?”

The surprise must be apparent in my voice because my twin chuckles.  
“Yeh, we can both go to Stanford or Yale or something, live the American dream you know.”  
“Dad wouldn’t approve.”

Sam sighs. “Think about what you want instead of what dad wants. You constantly put him before you.” He sounds sad, and I know he has a point.  
“Well going back would be great. How do we get the money?”  
“Scholarships.  
”  
“You figured it out already didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did, I applied for a few already.” Sam smiles and looks at my face, trying to read my emotions.  
“Which ones?”  
Sam lifts his backpack on his lap and grabs a folder out of it and places it in front of me on the table.  
“Stanford, Yale, Duke and UCLA.”

I look through the papers and notice that Sam always applies for law, but applied me for computer science, art, and psychology, all for other universities.  
“When will we get an answer?” 

Sam shrugs, “I sent them two weeks ago. Mr. Johnson is busy contacting the universities himself, so I have no idea when we will get an answer from who.”  
Mr. Johnson is the dean of our school. He contacts universities and helps us with our choice.

For those of you who don’t understand what’s going on here, Sam and I want to go back to the United States of America, where we were born.  
Dad moved to the Netherlands with us after mum died. He said he knew some people here and that the healthcare is good enough for my medication to be affordable.  
“I hope soon, I want to prepare.”  
“You always want to prepare. You prepare so much that you prepare for preparing De.”  
“Come on, it’s not that bad. You never prepare, so I have to prepare for two.” Michael sets our plates down and gives us another drink. “You’re meant to be the older brother, act like one.”

Sam laughs, “we’re twins.”  
“We are now all of a sudden? You consistently say that you’re older and now we’re not?”

I love Sam a lot, but he can be an odd bag of flowers when he wants to.  
“But what do you say? You’re in?”

“You applied for me already, of course, I’m in.” Sam looks extremely happy with my decision,“ what would I do without my little brother?”

I want to throw one of the peas that’s in my risotto at him, but my mum and dad raised me right, so I kick my feet against his shin instead.  
The boy sitting across me winces and rubs the sore spot. “you’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

Sam and I consume our food in peace, occasionally talking about something that happened at school or plans for after we graduate.

We want to throw a graduation party, but seeing that almost everyone wants to do just that, it takes a great deal of planning.  
Sam and I both know that we’ll graduate, so we don’t really need to wait for whether we did or not, but a lot of others aren’t so sure about their fate.  
“How are we going to tell dad?”

Sam wipes his mouth with the napkin and clears his throat.  
“We don’t, we’ll let Johnson handle it.”

I’m not convinced that that’s the way to go, but it’s better than telling dad and receiving a beating. I’ve come to school too often with bruises, and because dad wanted Sam and I to be enrolled at the same school for at least 2 years in a row, it’s become noticeable. 

“Are we going to see a film or do you want to go home De?”  
“Let’s go see A Quiet Place, Nick told me it’s nice and I really want to see it.”  
We pay for our food and start our walk to the other end of the city where the cinema is located.

“You got your ID with you De?”

“Of course I do, why you’re asking?”

My twins smirk tells me I shouldn’t have asked. “Because you don’t look like you’re sixteen yet.”  
I punch his arm, “like you look like a sixteen-year-old, you look like a baby yeti with all that hair and those incredibly large hands and feet.”  
We both laugh and I laugh even harder when Sam trips over his own feet and goes head first for the pavement. 

It’s annoying but nice at the same time that Sam acts like he is the more mature brother. He tends to be protective when he feels like I’m in need of protection. I must admit that it comes in useful at school, but at times like this, he doesn’t need to protect me or whatever he’s trying to do.  
I can take care of myself and I’m not sure Sam knows it. The 11 minutes got to his head. 

We buy tickets for A Quiet Place and some popcorn. Sam probably won’t admit it, but he was scared shitless. It wasn’t even that frightening, just some scary moments, but the storyline was overall great.

I get a message from dad as soon as we walk back to our bicycles, saying that we need to come home immediately or that we’ll be in trouble. When dad tells you to do something, you better do it.

“Sammy, just to let you know, I’m extremely happy that you took initiative for this. I really hope that we both receive a scholarship for the same university.”

My brother hugs me and then steps on his bicycle.  
“Let’s head home and find out what our dear father is up to my youngling.”

I pay no attention to him and take the first sprint towards home.

Having a twin is great.


	3. Chapter drie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a bit of research for this chapter. I also included a lot of my personal experiences. I'm no doctor or medical expert so there may be a few inaccuracies, but I try to keep this story as medically accurate as possible. If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out for me!
> 
> My finals start on Tuesday and I'm stressing out, but I thought I'd be nice and post a new chapter for all hell breaks loose at school.
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!
> 
> p.s I'm still in need of a beta for this story. If you feel like that might be something for you, let me know in the comments :)

The final exams start tomorrow and I have been stressing. Sam handles it a lot better, and I think that dad’s absence helps a lot with that.   


Most would be shocked. Saying that parents need to be there during times of stress. Let me tell you; you do not want John Winchester around when something important is going to happen.

  
I’m currently trying to finish my final preparations, and my brother is cooking food.   
Final preparations blow, I slowly discover that I don’t recall a good deal of things. I can certainly bluff my way out of a lot of things, but just not knowing things are bad. 

  
“SAM! What the fuck was the Alteration of Amsterdam?!” 

  
I can hear him thinking, “I don’t know, Google it. "I can swear on my life that I have never heard about it.   
Google, of course, knows the answer, but it doesn’t help my stress. Apparently, it was a significant deal changer during the Dutch Revolt for the Protestants, the Calvinists to be exact. 

  
Stress slowly starts blooming in my chest. “Stay calm Dean, you got this.” Talking to myself seems weird, but it often works. 

  
“De, food is ready!”   
I’m grateful for Sam’s timing. “Coming!” I shut my laptop and race downstairs.

  
“What we having Sammy?” He grins and reveals a stack of homemade burgers. “Tada!” I gasp and give my considerably larger twin a hug. “You are the best!” Sam smiles, “tomorrow will be stressful as fuck, so why not have a delicious meal to start with?”   
  
“The Alteration was a deal changer for the Calvinists by the way. The ditched the Catholic leaders and reinforced the city walls and such.”   
“Smith never talked about it.” I take a bite of my burger and nod, “I know right.”   
“Don’t eat with your mouth full. You are so gross.” 

  
Just to irritate him, I start chewing with my mouth open, revealing all of the contents of my mouth to my disgusted brother.  
“How can we be twins?” I know that he doesn’t mean it, so it’s all good. 

  
We finish our burgers in record time and lean back on our couch. “What time does history start tomorrow?”   
Sam grabs his phone and looks at his agenda. “Nine, what time you going to sleep?”

  
I shrug, “don’t know, I think I can’t sleep anyway.” Sam nods his head in agreement. “I didn’t think that I would even be this stressed like ever.”  
“Have you taken your meds yet?” 

  
I look at him. His eyes have a glint of worry. “Not yet“ before I can say that I’ll do it later, Sam pushes me towards the box of medication that we keep in the kitchen.  
I grab my pink inhaler. I think it’s a weird colour. I had a red and a yellow inhaler, but apparently, I was allergic to them so now I’m on Foster, which is pink. I also grab my Avamys, Xyzal, Singulair, Pantoprazole and a glass of water. 

  
Some would most likely look at me like I’m dying with all the stuff I need to take, but I’m used to it so I don’t mind.  
“Sam, catch!” I throw his box of Xyzal at him, and a bottle of water swiftly follows. 

  
Allow me to explain to you which medication works for what.

  
The Foster, _beclomethasone_ _dipropionate_ and _formoterol_ _fumarate_ _dihydrate_ , is for my asthma. It’s a mix of anti-inflammatories and bronchodilators. It’s pink like I said before, and I don’t feel very manly when I'm using it. The Avamys, _fluticasone_ , is for treating nasal allergies (hayfever and things like that). Xyzal, _levocetirizine_ _dihydrochloride_ , is for treating allergy symptoms like a runny nose or itchy eyes. The Singulair, _montelukast_ _sodium_ , is used for maintaining my asthma treatment and to block leukotrienes (they cause infections.). And last but not least, the Pantoprazole. Pantoprazole takes care of stomach reflux.   
  
I should take the pantoprazole before I eat, but I often forget so I take it after. Both Sammy and my doctor chastised me on several occasions, but I just can’t remember to take them before I eat dinner.  
  
When it’s time to eat dinner, I eat dinner and don't think about the meds.   
  
“When’s dad coming back Sam?”   
  
He looks up from his phone and shrugs, “I don’t care if I have to be honest. I hate that guy.”   
  
Sam knows that I don’t hate him, and for some reason that makes it worse. My twin brother sometimes tells me that I suck up to dad too much and that I need to stand up for myself. We endlessly argue about that.  
  
Now that I think about it, when we argue, we argue about dad.   
  
Sam and I watch TV together for a while, some documentary about the Knights Templars in Nova Scotia called The Curse of Oak Island.   
  
“I’m going to take a shower, Sammy, goodnight.”   
  
“Night De, see you tomorrow. It’s your turn to take care of breakfast by the way.”  
  
I groan, breakfast duty is the worst. I have to get up early to unload the dishwasher, set up the table and prepare food we can eat at school and for breakfast.  
  
“Why can’t you do it?”  
  
My brother points at the schedule that’s hanging on the fridge.   
“Tuesdays are Dean days. Good luck amigo.”  
  
I flip my brother off and walk upstairs.   
  
Shower time equal me time, and not in a way that you would guess.  
  
I like to sing along to ABBA songs. It’s a dirty secret that only Sam knows, and maybe dad. I turn on the speaker that we have in the bathroom and connect my phone to the Bluetooth.   
  
As soon as I turn on Dancing Queen, I am in my element.   
Shaving isn’t something I see as necessary yet. I have a little beard growth, but not enough to warrant shaving.   
  
I know for a fact that I find it sexy when guys have beards so that also a reason why I don’t shave.  
  
Let me tell you something that is a secret.   
  
I’m gay. Well, half gay I suppose. I both like boys and girls, which makes me bisexual   
  
I wish coming out would be dramatic with guns and explosions, that would add extra depth.   
  
Sam doesn’t know though, and if Sam doesn’t know, nobody knows. We know everything about each other, well not everything because he doesn’t know I’m bisexual, but he knows a great deal.   
  
It takes seven ABBA songs for me to finally muster up the courage to step out of the shower. My head is spinning with anxiety and stress.   
  
Bloody final exams, they can all choke on a chocolate bar.   
  
I brush my hair, put on my pajamas and walk to my room where I immediately jump on my bed. I slightly want to revise history, because I want to have a decent grade so I can flunk in mathematics and maybe economics. Revising the night before isn’t the most sensible idea, a lot of teachers told me, and so did a friend that graduated last year.  
  
I make myself comfortable in bed and force my head into my pillow. “Deep breaths Dean stay calm.”  
The first cough almost isn’t a surprise. My allergies are acting up because I stayed over at a friend with two parrots, and I’m really allergic to feathers. Stress also doesn’t help, which is why I need to stay calm.   
  
My doctor gave me breathing exercises to keep my breathing under control.   
  
Thoughts of blacking out during my history exam or passing out in the middle of the classroom pass my mind. I know that I’m not helping myself by harbouring those thoughts, but it’s not exactly like I can stop having them.   
  
I cough once again, and it all goes downhill after that. My breathing is becoming so fast that a freight train would blush and my hyperventilation starts. I am so loving this. I chug the bottle of water that I always keep beside my bed and grab my Ventolin, a blue discus that’s supposed to open up my airways so I can get air in properly. I start rocking myself, trying to calm down before I end up having a panic attack that leads to having an asthma attack. My breaths sound more like a squeaky wheeze than a normal breath.  
  
Asthma attacks are rare for me. I used to have them a lot when I was younger because my allergies weren’t under control, but now I have them once in 6 months, so that’s great.  
  
“De, you okay in there?” Sam sounds concerned even though he probably saw it coming. I nod but then remember that he can’t see me, he’s standing behind my shut door.   
  
“You decent?” He opens my door after a few seconds of silence, not really caring. There isn’t anything that he hasn’t seen anyway.   
  
“Oh De.” Tears are streaming down my face as I cough into the pillow that I stuffed my face in. Once more, I know that I’m not being clever, but I don’t really give a fuck.   
  
“Come on, let’s get you sitting up straight.” My brother slowly pries the pillow out of my hands and hauls me into a sitting position. He holds the Ventolin in front of my face, “did you take this?”   
  
I want to give a cocky remark, that I of course already took that damn thing. I am allowed to take it 4 times in a short time span. I only took it once so I have 3 times left. I hold up one finger to indicate my worried twin how many times I used the blue thing that he’s holding in his hand.   
  
“Okay, you can have another three, but let’s do it with intervals. Let’s do another one now and then you’re going to try to breathe with me.”   
  
I nod and let Sam release the powder into my mouth. I try to hold my breath for 8 seconds to let the powder do its job and then gasp for more air.   
  
The long-haired boy in front of me pulls of his pajama shirt and lays my hand on his chest. This has become a routine for us whenever one of us has trouble breathing, which is primarily me.   
  
“One, two, three, four in-,“ Sam exaggeratedly breathes in, -“one, two, three, four out.” After a few minutes, a thousand coughs, a few liters of tears and two Ventolin later I haven’t really gotten better.  
  
“Let’s go take a shower De.”  
  
Dad used to take hot showers with me when mum was still alive. The steam from the showers makes it easier to breathe for some reason, but we always make use of it as a last resort. It isn’t exactly pleasant for the person that’s under the shower with me.   
  
We slowly, very slowly, make our way towards the bathroom, where Sam ditches me on the closed toilet lit and turns on the shower.  
  
We can’t turn the lights on in the bathroom because the ventilation is linked to the light switch. When the ventilation is on, it sucks the steam away, and right now, we want as much steam as possible.   
  
My poor throat is rough and scratchy from all the coughing, and I have a feeling that my voice has taken a vacation for a while.  
  
Sam pulls me into the shower stall and closes the door, keeping the steam in. At a certain point, I know that my twin is crying too. We sit in the shower for a long time, waiting for my breathing to clear and for our tears to disappear.   
  
Life isn’t easy, but we have each other and that’s all we need.   
  
After what feels like a million years, but likely were 2 hours, Sam finally decides that my breathing is okay and that we should go to bed.   
  
“My room?”   
  
I nod, I need my brother, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he needs me too.   
  
“Love you, Sammy?” It’s barely more than a whisper, but I know he heard.

  
“Love you too De.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! thanks for reading!! :)  
> Feel free to point out any mistakes you may find and constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> Kudos and comments motivate me to write more often :)


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